The Measure of Me

If I had to describe myself in two words, they would not be 'Kitchen Goddess'. Although I am every bit as voluptuous as Nigella, I definitely do not have her talent in the kitchen.

There is nothing on the culinary front that I enjoy doing, but for years I was forced to try in order that my children did not starve. They are the first to decry my offerings with many a hurtful tale of memorable, in a bad way, of meals they were served, and latterly the present Lord Findhorn has been heard to tell visitors that I am one of the few people he knows who can burn a pizza. That is a cruel exaggeration, but I do tend to find more profitable occupations spoiling my concentration while pot watching.
The upshot of being a poor chef is that my children are rather good at cooking and definitely put me to shame.

This morning however, with HL off early to find peace in the hills, I was forced to confront the fact that we have people coming to lunch tomorrow and that assembling a ready cooked meal is really not an option. So it was on with the pinny and before you could say 'Jack Robinson' and before 9:30 had appeared on the clock, I had prepared a pan of soup, a fish pie and a lentil loaf. So far so good.

Although Mary Berry's dessert, ice cream made with double cream and condensed milk appealed to my sweet tooth, I'm afraid there will be biscuits and cheese instead. I can resist the latter at a pinch which I couldn't do with the ice cream.

These colourful spoons are a mood lifter in the kitchen, which stainless steel is not.